20141222

My Traumatic Event That Changed My Life (satire)

Throughout my articles on this blog, I have been bluntly forward about my private life.

Sometimes this has led me to delete the articles when the absence of privacy such a confession has caused not guilt or shame but regret of the candidness. Other times my candidness also leads to that feeling that surpasses embarrassment and shame to the point of almost losing psychological stability.

This makes me doubt the validity of psychoanalysis which played a role in the untimely death of Marilyn Monroe.

Possibly psychotherapy may have led to the suicide of Margeaux Hemingway, a great actress whose life was cut short because anorexia, drink and drugs were becoming addictions that was leading her to behave irrationally before her death.

I do not believe in psychoanalysis because there are secret bests left between a person and his higher power, be it his priest, a lover or even an imaginary friend who is often more reliable than our friends and family when it comes to the main affliction of people nowadays. YMMV

Yes, I believe that lack of healthy mental hygiene may lead to people either thinking of themselves as a god or worse come to hate religion as a superstition that is outdated and out of fashion.

Even worse is when a person may think that the spiritual life is a fearsome prospect, based on biases and prejudices against such a life, due to much the same biases that a few of the humanists tend to share with the spiritually-inclined.

For everyone is a human being first.

Having said all this, let me get to the point in my life that changed me: as a five year old I spend three weeks at the old St Mary's Hospital on Royal Avenue in New Westminster, BC — a hospital that I was born in a cold November day in 1958.

Prior to my time there, I suffered the absence of my parents and the indignity of being hooked up to a catheter all due to a genetic condition called hypospadia, a medical condition in which my plumbing was leaky at birth and got fixed but still leaked a little, which was fixed in 1991.

However I am sure the trauma of having my naughty bits repaired is enough to lead to the inability to have an orgasm during sex. It is not the equipment since my masturbation sessions in the past have been successful and complete.

Rather, I have a sexual hangup which makes it almost impossible to have an orgasm during sexual intercourse. Most likely, it is due to the "audience" which would be all my former girlfriends and lovers.

All I can say is, I am pretty sure that the normal response of a lover to just lay back and let me do the work does not lead to joy for me. She better be prepared to wiggle in ecstasy to her favorite love-making song for such joy.

I am sure that no single woman at my church even has a clue to what I expect from them during the post-marital sex. Though it is likely they have a better idea than what the LDS higher priesthood expect. ;)

Anyway, the reason why I refer to those three weeks in the hospital as traumatic is because I felt at the time that my parents had abandoned me forever. Sadly though, that hospital is no more — and all my good memories of my time as a five year old boy are all that's left of the event.

Today I am thankful to the boy from the tonsilectomy ward for befriending me. The uro-genital ward was a room filled girls and boys who could only use their inability to comprehend the fact that their naughty bits were not correctly made to invent stories like washing at the kitchen sink and accidently having a knife mutilate it.

Today as adults we will not even form adult psychotherapy groups to deal with how we were treated, because my guess is, we were intersex children being assigned as girls and boys by surgery in order to fulfill the unreality that people can only be male or female, but nothing in between — without the appropriate counseling, thanks to being born in Canada where children are deemed unfit for psychotherapy in 1963.

Today, it is likely a girl with sexual dysmorphic disorder can get counseling and even be assigned to a sex change from female to male, complete with hormone therapy and surgery.

We even accept the prospect of transgendered children being accepted as normal by their parents, despite the prejudice by feminists towards transgendered males who behave like women but are deemed to be men due to their chromosomes.

Such a reaction from feminists is a sure sign of sexism by cis-females who may be homosexual or heterosexual, yet practice a misandry that makes such feminists female chauvinistic boors.

Oh, the irony of feminists who claim all men are misogynists yet practice a hatred of anyone whose chromosomes are the wrong kind!

I have nothing against feminists, but too often they let their emotions hijack their reasoning skills. Even the religionists they despise are much better people overall because most spiritually-inclined people may be more accepting of others than the socialist propaganda claims.

As for this trauma of my past, I am all over it. Hopefully I can teach a willing mate how to dance in bed one day.

UPDATE: 20150107
When I was around 12, I read a book written by John Money called "Man & Woman, Boy & Girl: Gender Identity from Conception to Maturity". This book changed my life.

In it, I learned that I had a variant of hypospadia, which only consisted of a large fistula (opening) from urethra at the base of my penis.

http://books.google.ca/books/about/Man_Woman_Boy_Girl.html?id=qvRqAAAAMAAJ&redir_esc=y

It is important to develop sensitivity towards the intersex community and to accept myself as I am than and quietly blog about it.

Today I have experienced being a male who was determined to be heterosexual almost 25 years. I accept the counterargument that the subtle heteronormative pressures of society may have led to this decision.

As a result of that decision, I know that I will hardly ever pass as bisexual or gay. Indeed, it is more likely that expressions of my sexuality will remain heterosexual in nature. However, I would rather remain celibate at my age.

Most of the time, I maintain an indifference to sexual expression. For it distracts me from my pastime of computers, reading, and journal writing. I know that most of this blog entry might be a symptom of depression caused by the change in seasons from summer to winter.

What I am working on is to improve sleep hygiene since insomnia sometimes precipitates expressions of sexual behavior which are seen as healthy when expressed privately but is unhealthy when expressed publicly.

It is a lot more healthy to express myself through journal writing, since I consider writing to be due to the creative energy of the libido sublimated into non-sexual self expression.

Thus, my whole journal may be seen as a healthy form of self expression where libido is sublimated into journal writing, especially in articles that are not about sex.

Becoming politically moderate is a part of my primary goal at this phase in my life. From 1990 to 2010, I was primarily a Buddhist meditator. However, the little Zen that I know of and practiced was more intellectual in nature.

From meditation, I borrowed the breathing technique and meditation posture (erect the back and just sit) to help develop my concentration. To an outsider, it looks like I have fallen asleep but from my perspective, I am aware of my surroundings but ignore any stimuli unless physically confronted. Usually that rarely happens because I stay at home a lot.

Regarding the title of this blog entry, I have taken "ownership" of the traumatic event where my parents left me in the hospital when I was five. Having toughed out that experience, I can handle almost anything.

Additionally, my experiences as a security guard have led me to understand that the non-confrontative approach to life helped me make it to this point in my life. Indeed, I am thankful that the most significant work experience occurred around 3 AM in the morning of July 19, 2004, when I got beat up at work and survived. It helped me to realize that life is too short to spend risking my life unnecessarily.

This was the second traumatic event in my life, and it strengthened my resolve to remain independent. I also have matured over the past ten years, and have developed an appreciation for the calmness of mind and fearlessness that I recovered since then.

For libido does not have to be expressed sexually. Self expression also occurs when the individual is willing to fill the void that materialism often creates with a fuller and meaning form of sublimation such as the great appreciation of the spiritual aspect of human nature.

I knew this to be true in 2006 when I realized after an encounter with the hospital's spiritual counselor that, if a person believes in God, then on death, the soul returns to the Godhead since behavioral and mental negativities cannot taint its original purity. However, I have written more about this in a previous blog entry.

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